Before we moved to New York, I did a major purge of lots of my worldly possessions. The local thrift stores didn't know what hit them. I brought them kitchen appliances, fringed lamps, shoes that made my feet cry, artwork purchased after enjoying too many glasses of wine...you name it, they got it.
And it felt GOOD. Not just to get rid of that stuff that was weighing me down, but also to revisit how each of those things ended up in my life to begin with. Did I choose it, or was it thrust upon me? How long had I been carting it from place to place? Did it fit me any longer?
I recently had to transfer contacts from my old phone to my new one, and as I went through the list of names, the feeling is surprisingly similar to when I cleared out my house. It was a trip down Memory Lane, or in some cases, a trip down Where the Hell am I Road.
Because I'm a giver, I thought it'd be fun to share with you some of the actual entries from my old phone that didn't make the cut. Here we go!
Nas- I wrote a lengthy explanation of who this is, but then I realized my mother would have a heart attack when she read it (even though it was REALLY funny.) All I will say is that Kathy Gambrell knows who this is, and we met him at Hush.
Deadbeats with Dogs- Exactly as it sounds. Losers who lived around the corner from me, who let their two dogs run loose in the neighborhood, and didn't seem to care when concerned citizens tried to scoop them up and take them back. Total losers.
Eddie- This appears to be a New Orleans number, which means two things. I was probably with my Aunt Carla, and we were likely at a bar. Aside from that, I have no clue.
North South TV- When I first moved to NYC, I was on a fashion-centered reality TV show. What, you didn't hear about it? That was my plan. I told virtually no one, for good reason. These folks produced it.
Subfinder- Sweet, sweet Subfinder. You saved me many a morning when I was too ill to teach school. I almost had your number memorized, I loved you so dearly. Alas, my teaching days are on hold, and by the time I come back to it (if ever) there will probably be some sort of mind-reading system that not only finds a substitute teacher for you, but also can tell if you're faking.
Dispatch- This was the number for the cops in my old neighborhood in SC. I programmed it in my phone after someone left threatening porn on my doorstep, and tried to break in to my laundry room. (Yes, I said PORN, and yes, it can be threatening, believe me.) New York is a million times safer than my old neighborhood.
Blue Ribbon Cab- New York friends, back in SC you have to make a phone call for a cab to come pick you up, and then you wait for it. If you tried to flag one down in SC, the driver would probably just wave back.
There are lots of other names in there, people I fondly remember, but haven't spoken to in years. I let a lot of them go, relying on Facebook in the event I need to reconnect with them. Looking at the list of entires, I see how far I've come, how much has changed, and how much I've learned. My life is awesome, and all these entries played a little part in getting me here now.
Maybe not Nas, or Eddie, but you get the idea.